


The Scandal At The Tankerville Club

by Cerdic519



Series: Further Adventures Of Mr. Sherlock Holmes [33]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Attempted Suicide (mention), F/M, Gambling, Gentlemens' Club, London, M/M, Revenge, Slow Burn, Social Disgrace, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 17:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15175832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: The ultimate in social disgrace for a Victorian gentleman - cheating at cards. But has someone stacked the deck, and if so, to what end? Sherlock investigates a crime at one of London's top gentlemen's clubs.





	The Scandal At The Tankerville Club

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Centaurlips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Centaurlips/gifts).



_Introduction by Sir Sherrinford Holmes, Baronet_

Late in November of that year Mrs. Watson seemed to rally, which raised hopes all round. Kean and I saw more of Sherlock than usual; I would not go so far to say that he resented his friend's attentions to his wife, but as someone who did not 'do' emotions, my brother found such actions strange if not incomprehensible. Kean remarked after he had left one time that he was the second coldest man in London – after our brother Mycroft, of course.

Sometimes I could empathize with Doctor Watson about certain people being far too smug on the _very_ rare occasions that they chanced to be right!

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

_Narration by Doctor John Hamish Watson, M.D._

There were times when I felt truly sorry for Mrs. Hudson, Holmes' long-suffering landlady at 221B. The rag-tag assortment of humanity that came to her house must often times have sorely tried even her infinite patience, but she never complained (although it should be added that Holmes paid a good rate for his rooms and always on time, unlike some of her other tenants). So when she met us returning from a walk one Saturday in early autumn, I wondered as to what specimen of humanity had descended upon her house this time.

“There is a young lady to see you, gentlemen”, she said. “A very young lady. She arrived half an hour after you departed, and says that she has travelled all the way from Cheltenham to seek your services.”

“We had better not keep the young lady all the way from Cheltenham waiting, then”, Holmes said. “Mrs. Hudson, would you please be so good as to send up some tea and cakes? Our guest must have dined in her travels, but I am sure that she would appreciate some refreshment.”

She nodded and returned to her rooms whilst we ascended the stairs.

“How can you know that she has dined?” I asked curiously.

“Consider the time”, he said. “There is no direct train from that spa town this early in the morning so she must have changed at either Oxford or Bristol, which implies a journey of some length. Hence the earliest that she could arrive would be around ten, but in that case she would have come straight to us. So she was delayed and, realizing that we might be at lunch, she would take her own sustenance and then come to see us.”

“Surely she could have reached here before lunch, even with a change of trains?” I asked.

“She might have”, he said, “but she would first have to get to the station from the renowned Ladies' College in that spa town. And I doubt they would be happy with her departing at such an ungodly hour.”

“You cannot know she comes from there!” I protested. He turned and fixed me with those impossibly blue eyes.

“I am psychic, then, doctor”, he said dryly. “That, or unlike your good self I observed the college hat on the hat-stand when we entered.”

 _Smug bastard_ , I thought, as I followed him up the stairs. 

I was sure that he muttered something under his breath. It sounded suspiciously like 'rightly so'!

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

Mrs. Hudson had been right about our guest, who could have been little more than eighteen years of age. As well as a small reticule she had the day's newspaper in her hand.

“My name is Miss Elizabeth Forrester”, she said in a melodious voice, “and I have come down from Gloucestershire to see if I can obtain your services, Mr. Holmes. I should say at the start that I have little in the way of funds with which to recompense your efforts, but I hope and pray that you will at least hear me out.”

Holmes smiled.

“As I am sure you are well aware”, he said, “I take cases for a variety of reasons only one of which is the financial. If your case is of sufficient interest, then we shall see what we shall see.”

She nodded.

“Have you read the newspaper today?” she asked.

“The doctor has, I am sure, read the social pages”, he remarked slyly. I scowled at him.

“It is a story from those pages that brings me to your door, sir”, she said. “The scandal at the Tankerville Club.”

“I did glance at it in the newspaper that you have there”, I said, ignoring the cough from a certain wiseacre in the room. “Major Jeremiah Prendergast stands accused of cheating at cards. A most serious accusation.”

“My family lives opposite the Prendergasts in the town of Lee, in Kent”, she explained. “The Major's son youngest Cecil is the same age as myself; we have grown up together. I should tell you that is fully my intention to marry him when he comes of age.”

I blinked at her forthrightness. 

“Does he concur with your schedule?” Holmes asked politely.

“He does”, she said. “We write to each other weekly, but his letter did not arrive yesterday which most concerned me. I had thought that it might be a delay in the general post, but a telegram arrived last night with news of the scandal. He is of course devastated.”

I could see the hidden meaning in her words. If such an accusation stuck to the Major then his son would, however unfairly, be tarnished along with him. It was cruel, but it was the way of the world and it would make our charming visitor's plans to marry Mr. Cecil Prendergast all but impossible.

“This would be a very difficult investigation, Mr. Holmes”, she said. “From what I have read the Tankerville is one of the most secretive clubs in London, and since Cecil himself is not a member I doubt that you will be able to gain access to undertake any inquiries there.”

Holmes seemed to hesitate.

“I do not wish to assume the worst”, he said gently, “but have you considered the fact that the Major might actually be guilty in this matter?”

“Absolutely not!” she said almost angrily. “He is a lovely gentleman and such a thing would be totally out of character!”

I smiled inwardly at her vehemence.

“May I ask if your.... if Mr. Cecil Prendergast is in the army?” I asked. She shook her head.

“His two elder brothers are”, she said, “but unfortunately he has an eye condition that means it would be dangerous for him to use a weapon. He is most annoyed at that, as it was something that he inherited from his late mother but his brothers did not. They are both attending the Military College at Sandhurst just now.”

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” Holmes asked.

“I intend to travel onto Lee and hope to catch Cecil there”, she said. “I shall then spend the night at my parents' house and return to college late tomorrow. Naturally I alerted my form tutor as to my plans and she gave me her full support, which went so far as to arrange a lift to the station for me. I shall of course have to catch up on the lessons that I miss, but that is not an issue just now.” 

“We will accompany you, then”, Holmes said firmly. “We shall take the case.”

She looked surprised at her success, then smiled in relief.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

The Prendergast and Forrester houses lay close to the railway station in Lee, so we took a train down. On the way our client made a confession.

“I fully appreciate that you need _all_ the facts for your investigation, Mr. Holmes”, she said, “so I am going to tell you something that sheds a light on the case that I do not like. This is not the first time that Major Prendergast's family has been involved in such a scandal. I am sure that others will rush to apprise you of this fact.”

“Do continue”, Holmes said politely.

“Six years ago his nephew Reuben was accused of cheating at cards, at a club in India”, she said. “He is the son of the Major's brother, a colonel in his regiment, and his own character was.... well, let me be polite and say that it was questionable. In this instance however it later emerged that the accuser had himself planted the marked cards in his jacket, an act seen by a native servant who only came forward some way into the trial. Reuben Prendergast was totally exonerated, but you know how the newspapers are these days. They are bound to say that it runs in the family, that there is no smoke without fire....”

“All the old canards that sell copies”, Holmes said wryly. “That may be important information, regardless. Do you know what happened to the man who accused him?”

“No”, she said, “but Cecil would know. He knows all that sort of thing, the dear boy.”

Holmes nodded and we continued our journey in silence. On reaching Lee we went to Major Prendergast's home first and were admitted by a dour-faced servant who told us that the Major was staying at a friend's house in London, but that the young master was home. 

We had barely sat down when Mr. Cecil Prendergast entered. I try to avoid judging by first impressions but I have to say that I liked the boy at once. Despite the heavy load that had undoubtedly fallen on his shoulders of late he held himself erect, and had an open, honest face. He was also clearly both surprised and happy to see his near-neighbour (and soon to be wife!), and greeted her warmly. Though when she introduced us by name I saw a guarded look on his face.

“Eliza, dearest”, he said quietly, “is this wise?”

“We must have the truth, Cecil”, she said firmly. “Your dear father cannot live his life under a cloud of suspicion and poisonous whispers. Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson can find the truth for us. Please?”

She gave him a beseeching look, and I could see him fold beneath it. Poor fellow was half-way up the aisle already!

“I shall go across and tell my parents that I am here for an unexpected visit”, she said, “and you can tell our friends as much as you know.”

“Barrett is coming over any time now”, he told her. “Lieutenant Barrett Easton from my father's old regiment, and one of those there when it happened. Have dinner with your parents, dearest, then come over later and talk to me later on.”

She kissed him in a sisterly fashion and left us. The door had barely closed behind her before the bell was ringing, and a few moments later Lieutenant Easton was admitted. He was in his mid-twenties, with unusual electric-blue eyes and a shock of flaxen hair. Introductions were made and we all sat down.

“This is very bad”, Lieutenant Easton said frankly. “I do not want to think the worst, Cecil, but facts are facts.”

“Facts may be misleading”, Holmes said crisply. “Pray, sir, tell us exactly what happened on the day in question. Omit nothing, no matter how trivial it may seem to your good self.”

Thus prompted the soldier began his tale.

“Major Prendergast, myself, Lord Franks and Mr. Theobald Barclay meet every Tuesday at the Club for a set of rummy”, he said, sipping the drink that our host had poured for him. “Each of us takes a turn to bring cards and chips.”

“Why not use those provided by the Club?” I inquired.

“One of the rules of the building is that they are not allowed to supply anything that could be used for gaming”, the young man explained. “Rather odd, as there is no ban on gambling on the premises, but when the building was left to the founders of the Club as a bequest about thirty years back, that was one of the conditions. On this night Lord Franks supplied the chips and Major Prendergast brought the cards.”

“Tell us about the other two players before you go any further, if you please”, Holmes said. 

“Lord Franks is about sixty, and very pro-military”, the lieutenant said with a smile. “He sits in the House of Lords and often speaks up for greater military spending. He is a good friend to the Major and lives in Brockley, not far from here.”

“And Mr. Barclay?” Holmes asked.

The soldier hesitated.

“He is a businessman, who has several properties in the Lee area”, he said. “He lives in one of them, but I do not know which one. I believe that he did make an offer to buy the Major's house, but it was refused as he wished to knock it down and replace it with smaller houses for commuters.”

“Motive”, I muttered darkly. Holmes smiled at me.

“Always the cynic, doctor”, he chided gently before turning back to the lieutenant. “Tell us who arrived at the Club, and at what time.”

“I only know that Mr. Barclay and Lord Franks were in the room when we arrived”, he said. “The Major and I got there at virtually the same time; we handed in our coats and joined them.”

“You did not travel to the club together?”

“No, sir. He had come from the barracks which lie east of the place, but I was coming from the market which is west. I remember him saying the other week that his doctor had proscribed more exercise; he had used to take a cab for the journey which is about twenty minutes on foot.”

“Did any of you leave the room at all after your arrival?” Holmes asked.

“Mr. Barclay and I both used the water closet, but that is a dead-end room off ours. I think we played for only half an hour or so until I dropped a card and noticed markings on the back when I picked it up. Lord, I wish that I had kept my stupid mouth shut!”

“Miss Forrester was kind enough to tell of of a scandal surrounding a cousin of yours”, Holmes said to Mr. Prendergast. “I believe over a similar event?”

Our host groaned.

“Eliza should not have mentioned that!” he grumbled.

“Someone was bound to”, Lieutenant Easton put in. “Truth will out, Cecil, especially once the papers get their teeth into a story. You know what they are like.”

“Can you tell me anything about your cousin's accuser?” Holmes asked.

“A Lieutenant Maudit, who took his own life when his lies were exposed”, Mr. Prendergast said bitterly. “And good riddance too!”

Holmes frowned.

“You do not happen to know where this man came from?” he asked.

“Northamptonshire, presumably”, our host said. “That was his county regiment. Easton is from Buckinghamshire, next door.”

“It happened in British India”, the lieutenant said. “It made quite a few ripples at the time; it was the talk of the barracks in Surrey as we had some men out there at the time. Sorry though I am to say it Cecil, but your detective friend should know the truth. General opinion said that the whole thing was a whitewash and that your father used his influence to get his nephew cleared. That turned out to be wrong, of course, but that was what most people _said_. It did not help that Reuben Prendergast went and got himself killed barely a month later in a native uprising, which just made everyone talk about karma and other such claptrap.”

“Do I not know it!” our host said sourly.

We were interrupted by the arrival of a servant, who whispered something to out host that caused him to excuse himself for a moment. As soon as he was gone, Holmes leaned over to the soldier. 

“There is one further matter I would value your opinion on, lieutenant”, he said with a disarming smile. I flinched inwardly. He always used that tone just before a major strike. 

“Of course, sir”, he said.

“Your opinion on Miss Forrester.”

He looked like he had been shot, and though he strove to cover it up we had both seen it.

“She has an Understanding with Cecil”, he said angrily. “She does not know how I feel, and if you are both gentlemen then you will endeavour to keep it that way!”

We were precluded from any further conversation by our host's return. One look at his face told us he had not received good news. He was as white as a sheet.

“What is it?” Lieutenant Easton asked anxiously.

Mr. Cecil Prendergast sat down heavily on his chair and stared blankly into the fire.

“That was the police”, he said at last. “Father just tried to commit suicide at Ronald's house. He was stopped, but it was a close-run thing. They have sedated him for now.”

Holmes rose to his feet.

“This has become a matter of the gravest urgency”, he said gravely. “Doctor, you and I must go to the Tankerville Club now.”

“They will not admit you”, the soldier said flatly. “Do you wish me to come...?”

“They will when I tell them the alternative”, Holmes said grimly. “Mr. Prendergast, my sincerest apologies for your troubles but if we are to apprehend the man responsible for them, we must move quickly.”

Our host seemed to come to his senses.

“You think that he may flee the country?” he asked.

“I think that such an event is highly likely”, Holmes said simply. “The doctor and I will return here when we have news. Good day, sir.”

He bowed, and swept from the room. I followed as quickly as I could.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

The Tankerville Club lay in Mayfair, so I was a little surprise that Holmes went almost past the door of the place to call in at 221B first, though he asked me to wait in the cab as he was not going to be long. Indeed he was out again in barely under a minute, and about five minutes later we were outside a grand Early Georgian building.

Lieutenant Easton had been right about our reception at the place; it was about as cold as the Arctic Ocean. Two large footmen almost immediately tried to usher us out only to be sent backwards by punches from my friend. 

“Unless your employers wish the bulk of the capital's constabulary to fall on this building”, Holmes said firmly, “they will permit my visit.”

A dapper elderly fellow hurried out from a back room at all the commotion, and introduced himself as Mr. Edgar Paul, the day manager. Once it was made clear that Holmes merely wished to talk to the cloakroom attendant who had been on duty that night and then briefly examine the scene of the crime, he grumpily acquiesced and we were shown into a small side-room. Some little time later a balding but smartly-dressed man wearing the club uniform entered. 

“Mr. Octavian Drake, sir”, he said. “You wished to see me?”

Holmes gestured for him to sit down.

“I wish to ask you something, Mr. Drake”, he said, his voice low and menacing, “but before I do, it is only fair that I impress upon your good self the seriousness of the situation as it stands this evening. Major Prendergast attempted to take his own life earlier this afternoon and as I believe that he was driven to that most desperate act, I am now investigating a case of attempted murder. I am sure that I do not need to remind you about the importance of accuracy in people's accounts in such cases. Judges, in my experience, can take a dim view of those whose recall is less than perfect, and they show a laudable tendency to believe that a long period of time in a jail cell would 'improve' their memory.”

The man was already sweating, I noted.

“I have just one thing to ask of you”, Holmes said, “but I need details. Every single little detail; nothing is too unimportant. I wish to know exactly what happened when the four people in that room arrived at the Club that day.”

Mr. Drake nodded, and thought hard.

“Mr. Barclay arrived first, sir, but I don't remember the time. About two or two-thirty, I think.”

Holmes smiled reassuringly.

“The exact time itself is not important, but I will need to know roughly how long it was between each person's arrival. And in particular, what each man was wearing.”

The attendant nodded.

“Mr. Barclay had a long black coat, foreign I think”, he said. “He was carrying it when he came in, and handed it over straight away. It was one of those warm days with lots of showers, so I presumed it was dry outside just then; my work area does not have a window. Mr. Barclay took his ticket and went into the club.”

“Lord Franks arrived about ten minutes later, not more than fifteen I would say. He had an expensive brown woollen coat which was very wet, so there had to have been a heavy shower then. He was quite cross; he lives in the same road as the club so he must have been caught in his short journey. I had to call him back for his ticket.”

“The gentlemen do not come into the cloakroom itself?” Holmes asked.

“They can, sir”, the attendant admitted, “but they rarely do. If they want something then they usually come to the counter and ask for it. Some of the older members like to get their own things, but I have to admit them by raising the counter, and my deputy remains with them at all times. There is no way in otherwise except by the back door but that was locked. I checked afterwards and Mr. Paul had the key with him all day.”

“Interesting”, Holmes said.

“Lieutenant Easton and Major Prendergast arrived together, about ten minutes after Lord Franks”, he went on. “The lieutenant handed me his coat – a thin light brown raincoat, rather poor quality - then he took the Major's black military overcoat and gave me that. He waited for the tickets whilst the Major went on ahead, but he had to call him back as the old man had forgotten.....”

His voice faded and he looked puzzled.

“But that's impossible!” he muttered.

“What is?” I asked.

“When the lieutenant handed me the coats”, he said, “his was almost dry but the Major's was soaking wet. Yet they came in at the same time, and I know that they both walked from some distance away.”

Holmes looked pleased at that for some reason

“When the Major took the cards from the lieutenant, did he pocket them?” he asked.

The attendant frowned with the effort of remembering.

“No”, he said at last. “He had them in his hand when he left me.”

“Did Lord Franks bring the chips?” I asked.

“That I do not know, sir. But he did have a small case with him apart from his coat, so they may have been in that. Lord Franks did not have anything with him unless it was in his pockets.”

“Excellent!” Holmes beamed. “You have been _most_ helpful, sir. Now if you would kindly show us to the room in question, we shall conduct the business we need to conduct there and then never darken the doors of this place again!”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

We spent some little time in the billiard-room, Holmes implanted something down the pockets on each table that, he assured me, would later emit a particularly foul odour. The club really should have been more polite towards him!

I had thought we would hail a cab back to Kent upon leaving that baleful place, but Holmes was eyeing a small coffee-shop across the street.

“Wait here just a moment, Watson”, he said, before dashing over the road and into the building. I looked after him in confusion but he emerged just moments later, smiling.

“Sometimes the long shots pay off!” he smiled. “We must return to Lee and set poor Mr. Cecil Prendergast's mind at rest!”

“How did you know about the dry coat?” I asked, as he hailed a cab.

“The lieutenant's coat had to be dry”, he said, as a cab stopped for us. “It was the only possibility.”

I wished that I could see why, but he said nothing. We soon crossed the Thames and were headed back to Lee.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

I was as with everyone else to be kept waiting a little longer, for no sooner had we arrived at the Prendergasts' house than Holmes asked if he might have ten minutes to attend to an urgent matter. I wondered if he was going to send a telegram, but I heard no-one being summoned to the writing-room so the matter remained a mystery. Until after barely ten minutes he joined us. Miss Forrester had been across earlier but Cecil Prendergast had walked her home for the night.

“This has been a most unusual case”, Holmes said, holding some sort of paper in his hands. “Fortunately it is now solved, although the matter of actually ensuring justice may be a little complicated.”

“How can it be complicated?” Mr. Prendergast asked. “If my father did not cheat, then someone else did. What is not black and white about that?”

Holmes looked at him almost sorrowfully. He paled.

“You are not telling me that my father _did_ cheat?” he gasped.

“I am not telling you that”, Holmes said. “What I do have to tell you, however, is still painful.”

He turned to the lieutenant.

“You did it, sir”, he said, his voice ice-cold. “As surely as if you had driven a knife into his stomach, or shot him in the chest. You are responsible for the attempted suicide of Major Jeremiah Prendergast, and you alone.”

The lieutenant had gone deathly pale.

“Is this some sort of joke?” he managed.

“I will tell you why you did it”, Holmes said, “then I will tell you how. A search of the army records will reveal that Easton is not your real name. You changed it on joining the army the reasons for which were, pure and simply, revenge.”

“Poppycock!” the lieutenant snapped.

“It is unfortunate for you that I am well acquainted with the atlas of England”, Holmes said. “In the fair county of Northamptonshire there is a charming little village called Easton Maudit. Lieutenant Patrick Maudit was your elder brother, and when he took his own life after his attempt to smear a rival officer backfired, you held the Prendergasts responsible even though it was totally your brother's fault. Reuben Prendergast was soon beyond your reach, but you would have blood for blood.”

“Lies!” the lieutenant snapped. I made sure that I was between him and the only exit from the room. And I had my gun ready.

“You took the name of the village that, long ago, took its name from one of your ancestors”, Holmes went on. “Barrett Maudit became Barrett Easton, working his way into the army and intent on only one thing – the destruction of Major Jeremiah Prendergast. And when you found that his youngest son was dating an attractive young girl, you acquired yet another motive for your dark deeds. You knew she would never look at a lowly lieutenant when she could have a Major's son – but if that son's name was blackened beyond repair then he would have to withdraw, leaving the field open to you. I do not know if you foresaw that your actions might lead to the Major attempting to take his own life, but frankly I doubt that you would have cared. Indeed, had you not been found out I am sure that you would have later turned your vile attentions on the Major's other sons, with doubtless fatal results for those gentlemen.”

“You waited for a week in which the Major brought the cards for your games at the club. On that fateful day you arrived in Hope Street much earlier than you told us, and seated yourself in a coffee-shop opposite to await your target's arrival. I have to tell you that the waitress remembers you, lieutenant, and I am sure that her description of you would stand up in a court of law. She also described you as sitting at an outside table underneath the awning, and even how you rushed off quickly, almost upsetting your chair in your haste.”

The soldier put his head in his hands and groaned. Mr. Prendergast stared at him in shock.

“It was that waiting that gave you away”, Holmes went on. “Major Prendergast was caught in the shower which stopped moments before you saw him from your vantage-point. Had you been walking there and met him in the street as you claimed, your coat would have been as wet as his was. Yet the cloakroom attendant confirmed that his coat was wet and yours was almost completely dry.”

“Four weeks earlier you had taken great care to notice the sort of playing-card that the Major brought when his turn came around. You had an identical deck in your own pocket – except that yours were marked! Then all you had to to was make sure the Major asked you for the cards whilst both coats were in your possession. And of course to drop a card later in the evening and make the fateful comment drawing attention to the marking.”

“You rat!” Mr. Prendergast ground out. “I should kill you here and now!”

“Let us not complicate matters by having a successful murder, no matter how justifiable”, Holmes said consolingly. “I have a better resolution.”

He unfolded the piece of paper he had been holding and placed it on the table.

“This is a signed confession”, he told both men. “Lieutenant, you will sign it, then Mr. Prendergast, the doctor and I will witness it.”

The soldier looked at him warily.

“And?” he asked.

Holmes looked at him darkly.

“I shall first travel to Major Prendergast and explain matters to him”, he said. “Twenty-four hours from now I shall hand this document over to the relevant authorities. What you choose to do in the meantime is your own business, lieutenant. Regretfully I doubt that a jury would convict you of murder, though equally I am sure you do not need me to tell you that social ruin awaits if you remain in this country. The decision is yours.”

The soldier stared balefully at us, then grabbed the pen and signed his name without even reading the document. Before the rest of us had signed our own names he was gone from the room.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

I would have liked to conclude this story by saying that Lieutenant Easton did the decent thing and blew his brains out, but sadly this was not the case. Once Holmes had handed his confession in, the police called at his house, to find he had sold up and fled. Inquiries at the docks elicited the fact that a military man had paid for a last-minute berth on a crossing to the Continent, but there the trail went cold and England heard no more of Lieutenant Barrett Easton.

Mr. Cecil Prendergast did indeed marry Miss Elizabeth Forrester, the day after his twenty-first birthday the following year. She herself was the recipient of a most generous bequest from a great-aunt that was conditional on her keeping her name, but fortunately her new husband was obliging enough to change his name to hers, to which his father acquiesced as he had his other sons both of whom already had children to carry on the Prendergast name. The new Mrs. Cecil Forrester sent us both a slice of wedding-cake, which was nice of her – and unlike so many who required our services, we had not seen the last of her.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩


End file.
